Since I Could Not Succeed
by crazybeagle
Summary: Oneshot. "No Good Deed", but with one big, heart-wrenching, non-musicalverse plot twist.


**Since I Could Not Succeed **

[Hi! It's me again. Dedicated to IchikoWindGriffin who both encouraged me to write this after hearing my ideas and for being an awesome beta. I wasn't sure about writing this right after "To Feel", because I thought you all would think that I might have some weird torture-Fiyero complex. And that might be true, actually… Essentially this is a "What-if" type story, a different take on the "No Good Deed" scene. Enjoy! Or weep…]

_Eleka nahmen nahmen atum atum eleka…_

_Eleka…_

With an agonized screech that I could hardly believe had come from my own lips, I flung the spellbook at the wall. It crashed into the damp stones and fell heavily to the floor, dozens of its worn pages coming loose. I screamed in frustration yet again.

_It hadn't worked._

The spell, which had been my last hope- _his_ last hope- had failed. The ancient bright fire that usually welled up within me as I called upon my powers had not appeared this time, nor the familiar warmth in my mouth as I recited the strange words designed to unleash it. There was only a cold, terrible dread that sunk into the pit of my stomach like a lead weight as the words rolled lifelessly off of my tongue. I knew that I had failed.

Fiyero was doomed.

I fell to my knees, only dimly aware of the fact that I was sobbing. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. By now, Fiyero was dead or close to it, and there was not a damned thing I could do.

I pounded the floor with a trembling fist. _The idiot!_ I told him not to come! What the _hell _had made him think that he could take on the entire Gale Force by himself?

_He knew he had no chance, _a small, accusing voice in my head whispered. _He did it because he loves you. You should have known that he would follow you. _

I shook my head furiously, my tears now leaving dark stains on the filthy stone floor beneath me.

Then the voice whispered, more menacingly now, _This is all your fault._

"No," I breathed.

_Yes. Fiyero, Nessa, Dillamond…_

"No!" I cried, leaping to my feet. I paced back and forth furiously, like a madwoman, trying to rid myself of this voice that condemned me, a voice that spoke the truth.

At some point, I found myself standing at the eastward-facing window, staring blankly out into the darkness. And suddenly I knew that I had to go to him.

Within seconds, I was standing on the ledge of the window, the Grimmerie tucked under my arm and my broom in hand.

Once again, the voice piped up. _What are you doing? He wouldn't have wanted you to go back. They could be waiting for you right now._

"Let them come," I growled under my breath, mounting the broom. Though all my better judgment was screaming for me to stop, and that he was now beyond my help, I kicked off from the window's ledge and tore into the night. I had to see him. I had to know if something could yet be done.

I had to prove the voice wrong…

***

The flight back to Munchkinland did not take nearly as long as such a trip would normally take by broom. I was flying at a reckless speed, one that might very well destroy the broom, but I did not dare slow down. The dark patchwork of fields, trees, and streams that was the Land of Oz passed beneath me in a blur. My heart wrenched as I made my way past the countless treetops of the Great Gillikin Forest as memories from the previous night, which had been without a doubt the best night of my life, crept into my panicked mind.

At long last, I reached the sea of corn stalks that was Nest Fallows. And as I hurtled towards the city of Center Munch, I prayed for the first time in my life to whatever god might be listening that I was not too late.

I gave the city itself a wide berth, knowing that I could not bear the sight of it or of the house that had crushed Nessa, even from a distance. My heart began to race as I passed the city and flew low over the rows upon rows of corn in the field where Fiyero had been taken.

_Where is he?_

After what might well have been an eternity of searching, I passed by something that caught my eye. I looked over my shoulder at the thing- it was a dark shape that loomed over a clearing in the field, though I could not tell exactly what it was. As I turned around and began to fly closer, I decided that the thing was probably just an old scarecrow. It wasn't until I reached to the clearing that my breath caught in my throat and I nearly fell off the broom.

It was Fiyero.

I leapt off the broom, forgetting that I was nearly seven feet in the air, and scrambled over to him, ignoring the searing pain in my knees and palms where I had hit the ground.

He was suspended in the air, his arms and legs bound tightly to two crossed wooden beams. His Captain's uniform was torn in several places and smeared with blood. His face was so bruised and bloodied that even in the bright moonlight he was barely recognizable. I could not tell whether he was dead or unconscious.

"No," I breathed, blinking back tears as I tried to undo the ropes that bound his legs. "Oh Oz, no…"

"Fae."

I looked up. Fiyero's eyes were half-open and he was peering down at me. "What…are you doing here?" he whispered.

"Shh. I'm here to help you," I whispered back, fighting to stay calm as my fingers, now slippery with his blood, tugged at the ropes.

He shook his head slightly. "You shouldn't be here…Gale Force…"

"To hell with Gale Force," I snapped, kneeling on the ground, which was also blood-stained, and flipping through the Grimmerie to find a severing spell for the ropes.

"Elphaba, please...They'll kill you…"

"I'd like to see them try," I muttered, my eyes skimming the pages. "I just learned how to conjure and command fire."

"Fae…"

"Please don't make me leave you here like this," I begged, standing up and preparing to cast the spell. "It'll only take a moment. I promise."

He closed his eyes and sighed. I recited the spell with all the haste I could manage and the ropes instantly fell away. Fiyero slid down the pole and into my outstretched arms, and still holding him I sank to the ground.

"Now let me look at you," I muttered. He gasped sharply as I peeled back his torn shirt. My mouth fell open as I took in the damage, the blood coursing from many wounds. So much blood…

I could feel his eyes on my face, and I looked down at him. His expression was one of sad resignation. "Fae…you shouldn't…have come back."

I ignored him and pulled the Grimmerie towards myself once more, flipping once more, in desperation, to the spell that had failed earlier. I doubted it was going to work for me this time, but I could think of no better option.

I trailed my fingers down the page and hurriedly whispered the words. Nothing happened.

And there was nothing more I could do.

Nevertheless, I continued to turn the pages with shaking hands, my tears now falling steadily onto the ancient text. Fiyero's hand caught mine. "Stop," he said gently. "You can't help me, Fae."

I shook my head numbly, waves of sheer terror now threatening to engulf me. "You'll be okay," I heard myself say, but I could feel my lips quivering.

His hand squeezed mine and his eyes closed again. His breathing was growing more and more labored.

I ran my fingers through his hair. "Don't leave me, Yero."

He opened his eyes and attempted a smile. "I don't think…I have much of a choice, Fae. I know that…I shouldn't be, but…I'm glad you're here. I thought…I'd never see you again…"

I took his hand and held it over my heart. His fingers were cold and limp. By now I could not lie to myself- he was dying.

His smile faded. "I love you... Please…try to stay safe…" He turned his head and buried his face in my skirts, his body now trembling all over. "Fae…" he whispered, his voice muffled. "I don't want to die…"

And all I could do was watch as he bled to death in my arms, to try to offer him some degree of comfort as his spirit slowly slipped away. I wept and gently rocked him back and forth. I tried once or twice to tell him that I loved him, but the words caught in my throat. How could I tell him that I loved him when my love was the very reason he now lay here dying? Was it love, or was it my own selfishness?

Within minutes, he was gone. When at last those shallow breaths ceased, I laid him out carefully on the ground and closed his eyes with two fingers. I slowly stood up, completely numb to all else but the feeling of my skirts, soaked with his blood, clinging to my legs. As I mounted my broom, I was sure of one thing and one thing only.

_If it's a Wicked Witch the people want, then it's a Wicked Witch they're going to get._

Starting with the farm girl.


End file.
